


The Hardest Part of This (Is Leaving You)

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of Curses and Spells [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Curses, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is Not a Failwolf, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Idiots in Love, Laura Hale Feels, M/M, Monster of the Week, Resurrected Laura Hale, Spells & Enchantments, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski is Derek Hale's Anchor, The Hale Pack - Freeform, The Pack Being Idiots, The Pack Ships It, Warlocks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24819811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: “Hey, Der," the woman said softly. Stiles blinked and Derek made a noise like a wounded animal at the back of his throat.“... Laura?”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Series: A Collection of Curses and Spells [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990432
Comments: 39
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Der," the woman said softly. Stiles blinked and Derek made a noise like a wounded animal at the back of his throat.
> 
> “... Laura?”

In Beacon Hills, a lot of strange things happened. 

Stiles knew this. He’d known since sophomore year of high school when his best friend had been bitten by a werewolf and Stiles’s life proceeded to turn into a whirlwind of trying not to die every other week. For three years now he'd known that in Beacon Hills, strange things happened.

He still didn’t expect the necromancy.

See, the thing is… Derek Hale. That’s it, that’s the thing. Derek Hale was an angsty self-sacrificing Alpha werewolf who never thought twice before throwing himself in danger and always tried to get himself killed one too many times for Stiles’s liking.

Not that he had a liking. Stiles didn’t do liking. He just preferred Derek Hale alive and not dead, and if that involved a little bit of tolerating, he was willing to be a sacrifice. 

Derek didn’t agree.

It was Jackson’s idea to use Stiles as bait, the douche. But while both Scott and Derek seemed opposed to the idea, the rest of the pack had to agree that it wasn’t a bad one. The monster of the week was a warlock that had been stewing up rather fatal spells and of course, someone had to stop him. Someone also had to draw him out.

That someone ended up being Stiles.

Which, he was totally fine with. Yeah, he preferred being alive rather than dead, and he didn’t think he’d fare very well against a fireball or a death potion, but Stiles had… uh… faith in the pack. Yeah, faith. That’s what it was.

To be honest, he was tired of being left on the sidelines. And he was feeling a little spiteful. Because it was Derek who often left him on the sidelines, goddamit. 

Which might’ve been how Stiles ended up wandering around the preserve after midnight on a Friday. But that was exactly how he’d wanted to spend the first day of his weekend. Totally.

Stiles gripped his baseball bat tighter and tried not to jump at every rustle and crack in the trees.

He was just starting to think maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant idea and maybe the warlock didn’t choose any random person who wandered into the preserve, when there was a footstep behind him, followed a chuckle, and Stiles spun around.

The warlock was an old man. One with white hair, a short beard, and dark gleam in his eyes that made Stiles shudder. Because when Stiles though ‘warlock’ he always thought of pointy hats and purple robes. But sadly, the man didn’t have any of those. He did have an alarming show of sparks dancing along his fingertips, though. Ones that looked dangerous.

The warlock moved forward and Stiles moved back, hefting his baseball bat in the air. The man came to a pause at that and chuckled.

“My dear boy, you reek of wolves. Whatever are you doing so far out in the woods without them? A human should know better than to wander around in the dark without the proper protection.”

“What the hell does this look like to you?” Stiles said, waving his bat through the air. The warlock’s eyes sparkled.

“That? Why, nothing more than a stick.”

And just like that, Stiles was holding the most pitiful branch he’d ever seen. He lowered it and stared in shock, before glaring over at the man. “Dude, that was signed by the Metts! I waited in line for six hours to get that signature!”

The warlock only chuckled. Stiles ground his teeth together and dropped the branch to the ground, shoving up his sleeves.

“Just for that, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“Yourself?”

And Stiles froze. Went over his words. Then winced. “Which was the plan all along?”

A sharp howl suddenly cut through the air and the warlock spun around as a dark blur came streaking out of the trees. Scott was fast, but the warlock was faster, and there was an explosion of green as the young Alpha werewolf was blasted back into the nearest tree. He let out a wounded yelp and Stiles leaped forward.

“Scotty!”

The warlock spun back toward him with murder in his eyes and Stiles didn’t have a chance to react before the man was chanting something. But right as he saw a flash of electric blue, he was driven to the ground and the blast took out the tree only a few feet from where he’d been standing instead. 

Derek snarled at him with red eyes. “Stay down, Stiles!”

“Okay, first of all—”

But before Stiles could even protest, Derek was shoving himself up and leaping at the warlock. They went down in a flurry of limbs and Stiles felt someone grab his arms, hefting him to his feet. He shot Erica a grateful nod and got a smirk of sharp teeth in return. Moving around him, all three betas rushed to their Alpha’s aid.

Stiles didn’t see much of what happened next.

There was a crackle of energy, a sharp roar, and then an explosion. Stiles dropped to the ground right as a wave of hot air flew over his head, sending the other betas flying back. He looked sharply up to see Derek still struggling to hold the warlock down. The right side sleeve of his shirt was scorched off. 

“You,” the warlock said weakly, “you will suffer greatly, werewolf. Consider this gift a curse.”

Derek roared and his eyes flashed bloody red. Raising a clawed hand, he swiped down, and Stiles looked sharply away as his claws cut through flesh. The nighttime air seemed to sigh as the warlock's shout cut off and the burnt smell in the air died down. The moment Stiles glanced forward again, Derek was collapsing sideways.

He scrambled up and raced toward him. “Derek!”

The man groaned, curled up on his side. Most of the right side of his shirt was singed away and there were burn marks that looked bad, but were thankfully already healing. Stiles still knelt over the werewolf and searched him up and down, fingers fluttering over the angry red skin stitching itself back together.

“Stiles,” Derek said, sounding pained. “I told you to stay back.”

“Shut up, you don’t tell me what to do. Are you hurt anywhere else? Are you dying? What the hell did the warlock do?”

Derek blinked a few times, until the red faded from his eyes, and then he slowly pushed himself up. Stiles reached out to help but then quickly drew away again. He didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“He didn’t do anything,” Derek said, checking himself over. “I feel fine.”

“You feel— _you feel fine?_ Dude, the creepy warlock did something! There were lights that flickered! There were sparks that glowed blue!”

Derek leveled him with a flat look. “Stiles, I said I’m fine.”

“Oh my god! What if you’re not?”

The man rolled his eyes and pushed himself up, swaying only slightly. Stiles started to reach out to help again, but this time it was a raised eyebrow from Derek himself that made him pause. Biting down on his lower lip, Stiles pulled his hands back into his chest and settled for a glare.

“We should take you to Deaton.”

“I’m not going to Deaton.”

Stiles scowled and opened his mouth to continue arguing— when there was a loud groan behind him. He whirled around to see the other betas pushing themselves up from the ground and Isaac— who’d hit a tree and gotten a branch through the shoulder— peeled himself forward with a pained grunt.

“Glad to see you care about the entire pack, Stilinski. Do I get some coddling too?”

“Only if you grow a beard and a six-pack,” Erica snorted.

“I have a six-pack!”

“Of what, little werewolf muscles?”

Stiles closed his mouth and glared at both of them. Coming limping out of the darkness, Scott looked a little wounded too. “I’m also alright. Just so you know.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, turning away. He stepped on the branch that had once been his baseball bat and it snapped beneath his shoes. Growling, he started into the trees. “You’re all a bunch of babies. Fine, everyone’s fine! But if I’m right and something happened, don’t come asking me for help.”

Jackson scoffed. “That’s cute, Stilinski.”

“Shut up, lizard face.”

Stiles thought Scott called his name but he ignored him, stalking through the trees toward where he’d parked his car. He’d seen what he’d seen. And if they wanted to face the consequences of it alone then fine. They could face the consequences of it alone.

But nothing ever went Stiles’s way.

It was only after he'd climbed into his jeep and started the car that he saw the flash of something black moving out of the corner of his eye. Stiles glanced sideways but the preserve stood still and silent. Shaking his head, Stiles turned on the headlights and threw Roscoe in reverse, pulling away from the dark trees.

He didn’t quite make it into town before something darted across the road.

It was big and it was fast. But Stiles didn’t even have a chance to catch a glimpse of what exactly it was, before he was slamming on the breaks and nearly skidding off the side of the road. Roscoe screeched to a painful stop and Stiles slammed against the steering wheel, seeing stars for a moment. 

He blinked them away and stared at the dark road. His heart was beating harder against his chest now.

Then something slammed against the back of his car, shaking the entire thing.

Stiles yelped and hit the gas again, thumbing his phone out of his pocket as Roscoe shot forward and scrolling to Derek’s name. He nearly kept scrolling to Scott’s instead, but Derek’s was closest, so he hit the call button and pulled the phone to his ear.

Thankfully, it only rang a few times before Derek’s gruff voice came through. Stiles thought he’d never been so relieved to hear the Sourwolf.

“What, Stiles?”

“Dude, there’s something out here! There’s something attacking my car!”

Stiles heard the instant intake of a sharp breath. He heard a faint voice too; probably one of the betas, if Derek was driving them back to the loft. The man’s voice came through again. “Stiles, where are you? What is it?”

“I don’t know, Sourwolf, but it’s fast. Dude, I swear to god, if I die because you guys wouldn’t listen to me, I’m going to be so pissed. I’m going to haunt you all and do horrible, terrible things to you in your sleep—”

“Stiles, _where are you?”_

“Driving.”

“Is it still coming?”

Stiles dared glance out of his window for only half a second. He was already only driving with one hand; he didn’t need to add any more violations of the law to his current predicament. “N-no. I don’t see anything.”

“Go to the loft,” Derek ordered. “It’s closer.”

Stiles was sorely tempted to argue for a moment, but then something darted across the road up ahead again, and he decided he preferred living over arguing with Derek Hale.

So, Stiles took a right turn instead of a left at the next stop sign and Derek kept him on the line the entire way there. Though, it was mostly Erica calling helpful things like ‘don’t die!’ and ‘you still surviving?’ for the next five minutes. By the time Stiles arrived at the loft, his heart was thudding against his chest, though the black blur was gone.

He wondered for a moment if it’d given up. Then he was worried he’d imagined it.

The Camaro peeled into the parking lot not a handful of minutes later. Stiles stumbled out of the jeep and Derek stalked toward him, grey-green eyes searching him up and down.

“What happened. Are you hurt?”

“There's something out there,” Stiles said, throwing a fugitive glance over this shoulder. “I swear I saw something, Derek. I’m not making this up.”

“Hey,” Derek caught his shoulders and steadied him out. Stiles hated the way his heart skipped a beat at that and, standing behind him, Erica snorted. “I believe you.”

Stiles pulled away. “Can we just go inside?”

Derek studied his face for a moment longer, expression a little constipated, before he nodded. It wouldn’t be the first time Stiles had crashed at the loft, but he didn’t usually do so because of a possible threat.

Usually, it was under the guise of too much research, too much to drink, or too little sleep the night before. Stiles would never admit out loud it was because of a certain… Nope. Nope, not going there.

He couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder one more time before following the betas into the loft. He could’ve sworn he saw something red only seconds before the night was silent darkness again.

Stiles clenched his jaw and turned away. He hadn’t imagined it, dammit.

“Maybe the warlock hit you with something,” Boyd said as they climbed up the stairs. Stiles shot him a flat look.

“I saw something.”

“Yeah, but maybe you didn’t and—”

“I _saw something.”_

Boyd closed his mouth, Isaac rolled his eyes, and Erica scoffed, linking her arm with that of her boyfriends. They made it to the loft door and Derek thumbed out his key, sticking it into the doorknob and turning— before he froze.

His face turned paler than Stiles had ever seen and his eyes turned red. His fingers dropped from the key and it clattered out of the knob to the floor. Stiles blinked and stared at him, and all three betas whined. Derek’s hand trembled.

“Derek?”

But Stiles didn’t get an answer before the man was shoving into the loft. Stiles pushed past the betas and rushed in after him, only to skid to a stop as he spotted the silhouetted figure standing against the moonlight coming through the giant windows. One wearing a leather jacket, with dark brown hair that fell down her back, and a relaxed position as she gazed outside.

Derek swayed where he stood. Then the woman turned around and Stiles’s heart stopped as golden eyes glowed. Gently, she smiled. It was a smile that almost struck him as familiar, if not a little strange. And it was a face Stiles had... Stiles had seen before.

Three years ago when he and Scott had gone to the preserve in search of a dead body.

“Hey, Der," the woman said softly. Stiles blinked and Derek made a noise like a wounded animal at the back of his throat.

“... Laura?”


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles couldn’t stop staring.

All he could see was Laura Hale buried next to the Hale house, nothing but her upper body left. There’d been no light in her eyes and no smile on her face. Not like now, as she tilted her head and studied Derek quietly, and he made a broken noise at the back of his throat.

The other betas whined and shuffled, but Laura never looked at them. Her eyes stayed on Derek as he moved forward and inhaled deep, fingers trembling as they stretched toward her own and then froze midair. 

“It’s… it’s you?”

“Did you miss me, little bro?”

And Derek suddenly drew back with a snarl, his eyes flashing red. Stiles tensed but Laura didn’t even flinch. Derek shook his head and glared at her, fingers clenching into fists. “It’s not you,” he said. “You’re dead. This isn’t you.”

“Der,” Laura said softly. “It’s me.”

“No,” Derek snarled. “I saw your body. I buried you, Laura.”

Laura moved closer and Derek went impossibly tense. The woman traced her fingers along the back of Derek’s neck and touched her forehead against his own. It looked like a terribly intimate gesture and Derek whined again, all the tension in his body dissipating. Laura’s fingers danced along his shoulders, then back over his neck. 

Derek turned his head slightly so it was bared even more for her. Stiles couldn’t help tensing a little at that.

But Laura only made a soft rumbling noise in the back of her throat and breathed in deep. Stiles watched as her eyes flared golden and in return, Derek’s turned red. The man blinked a few times, before shaking his head once more.

“It smells like you. Why does it smell like you?”

“Because it is me.”

“I don’t understand. How?”

Stiles didn’t either. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, watching the procession in both shock and confusion. Because this wasn’t possible. They’d killed the warlock, but not before he’d attempted to curse Derek— and this wasn’t a curse. This was… this was…

This was a resurrection. That was not how Stiles had expected his Friday night to go.

Finally, Stiles snapped back to reality.

“Uh, Derek?” he said, breaking the silence. The betas all turned to look at him but Derek didn’t. His eyes stayed fixed on Laura as if he was drinking in all of her features before they were gone again. Stiles cursed silently and moved forward, catching Derek’s arm.

The man finally reacted then. And Stiles yanked back as Derek turned toward him with a snarl and flashing red eyes. Stiles's heart slammed against his throat and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Derek,” he said carefully. “Derek, can I please talk to you?”

The man only raised an eyebrow. Stiles glanced nervously at Laura, who just watched him quietly. He swallowed hard.

“Somewhere in private?”

“Stiles—”

“Derek,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “Please.”

Derek looked at him for a long moment and the red slowly faded from his eyes. He growled lowly and glanced back at his sister, then let Stiles lead him from the loft. Stiles moved all the way down the hall and paused only when he was pretty sure they were out of earshot.

Derek gave him a flat look. Stiles couldn’t believe he was the one getting that right now.

“Derek,” Stiles said slowly, studying the man’s face. “Derek, something’s not right here. You have to know that something’s not right here.”

“Like what, Stiles.”

“Like what? Dude, remember the thing I saw in the woods? The black shape that attacked my car? And now… And now she appears out of nowhere? Derek, that’s not right! I don’t think that’s your sister at all.”

Derek’s eyes blazed bright red and he snarled. Stiles jerked back, a flicker of fear climbing up in his throat. He couldn’t believe five minutes ago Derek had been checking him over for injuries and now he looked like he was about to cause some himself.

“Derek, you believe me, don’t you?”

“That’s Laura,” Derek said, fangs poking at his lower lip. “I know it is.”

“Yeah, but how? I mean, dude, come on—”

“It smells like her,” Derek snarled. “It looks like her. Stiles, I know the heartbeats of my sister. I grew up listening to them from one room over. That’s Laura.”

“But Derek. Golden eyes.”

The man’s face tightened and for a moment, he looked at a loss for an answer. But then Derek shook his head and glared at Stiles again. “Peter took her Alpha spark. I took it from him. It only makes sense that she’d have golden eyes now.”

“But Derek she was dead! She  is  dead! The warlock did something and you’re too blinded by your feelings to realize that—”

In a second, Stiles was shoved up against the wall. He made a noise of surprise and pain, especially as Derek’s claws touched against the soft skin of his neck. Stiles swallowed back a whimper, looking at the man in shock. Derek was all red eyes and snarling fangs. It wasn’t the man Stiles had come to know so well. It wasn't even close.

“Don’t tell me what I know,” Derek said. “Stiles—” his voice cracked. “Stiles, that’s my sister. That has to be Laura. Something went wrong with the spell or something changed. But that’s Laura.”

Stiles almost didn’t want to argue, terrified at what might happen if he did. But doubt stuck in his throat and he searched Derek’s face, trying to see some sort of uncertainty. And maybe there was too much uncertainty there. But Derek was also pleading. Pleading with him as if Stiles had any control over this.

“Derek, I don’t think this right.”

Derek let him go and blinked the red away from his eyes. He fixed Stiles with a flat look before turning away. “You should go home, Stiles.”

Stiles stared after him. But the man didn’t look back and Stiles bit back a curse of frustration as he turned back into the loft.

This wasn’t right. Stiles knew this wasn’t right.

He’d seen Laura’s body. He’d seen the wolf she was when surrounded by wolfsbane and the torn half she'd become when that was taken away. Whatever was in Derek’s loft wore the face of Laura Hale but that wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

Stiles turned away determined to prove himself right.

* * *

Stiles stayed up until long past midnight researching. 

He looked up necromancy, resurrection, ghosts, and ghouls. He looked up doppelgangers and duplicates. Stiles made a list of everything that Laura Hale could be and at the very bottom, the very very bottom, was the possibility that she had come back. That something in the warlock’s spell had backfired.

Maybe it’d changed because the warlock was dying. Maybe it was a curse that ended up being a blessing; maybe Laura’s presence was supposed to punish Derek somehow. Bring back all the memories he’d tried so hard to overcome. 

Maybe Laura Hale was Laura Hale after all. Or maybe she was something much worse.

When Stiles went to sleep that night, he tossed and turned. His dreams were haunted by a black shape that came out of the forest with glowing red eyes and gleaming white fangs. It was like Peter when he’d been the Alpha except stronger. Faster. Smarter.

Stiles dreamed that as the shape ripped out his throat, Derek was there telling him it was Laura. It was Laura and everything was going to be alright.

For the first time in a long time, Stiles screamed himself awake.

His dad had a night shift so when he came back at six in the morning to see Stiles already awake and making a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and potatoes, he was rightly suspicious. Stiles tried to grin off the man's narrow-eyed looks, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

When he let his dad eat bacon, the Sheriff finally snapped.

“Stiles,” he said, holding a piece of bacon purposefully in between a thumb and a forefinger. “You know I love you son and I’d never say no to bacon, but the hell is the meaning of this?”

Stiles swallowed hard and shrugged. “I’m not allowed to spoil you every once in a while?”

“On my birthday and the occasional holiday. None of that is today.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m in a charitable mood.”

His dad gave him a flat look and Stiles shrugged, shoveling eggs into his mouth. His dad knew well enough about all things werewolf but Stiles also knew he was still getting comfortable with it. The last thing he wanted to do was freak his dad out before he’d even had a chance to accept things.

Especially because the current threat involved possible necromancy.

If Peter were in Beacon Hills, Stiles might try to seek him out. But Peter had vanished months ago and for all Stiles knew, he was dead in a ditch somewhere. Or enjoying himself on some beach thousand of miles away. He wouldn't put either past Peter Hale.

So Stiles went to Deaton after breakfast. The vet’s office was empty of customers when Stiles poked his head in and the druid sat behind his desk, working through papers in the silence.

Stiles waited a few moments, then knocked on the side of the door. Deaton looked sharply up.

“Oh, Mister Stilinski. I didn’t expect a visit.”

“Yeah, well, I have a few questions,” Stiles said, moving into the office. Deaton raised an eyebrow and Stiles ran a hand through his hair, trying to properly frame his words for a second. “What do you have to say about necromancy, D?”

Both of Deaton’s eyebrows shot up this time. He eyed Stiles’s face and then slowly stood. “I would say you should probably explain, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles hesitated for only a second before he did.

Deaton’s face gradually tightened as Stiles went deeper and deeper into detail and by the time he was finished summarizing the entire story with the research he’d done, Deaton’s jaw was clenched and his expression was stony.

“Laura Hale is back from the dead.”

“... Maybe?”

“I think I should see for myself,” Deaton said. Stiles’s breath caught in his throat and he quickly shook his head.

“No, no, that’s a bad idea, absolutely not!”

Deaton looked incredulously at him. Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“Last night when I tried to tell Derek I didn’t trust that was Laura, he kind of went ballistic,” Stiles said, fingers brushing over the spot where Derek’s claws had been pressed against his neck. “Just seeing her did something to him, D. He snapped.”

“Derek Hale has been struggling with the death of his family since you were in middle school, Mister Stilinski,” Deaton said. “You don’t go over ten years believing they’re all gone to see one standing in front of you very alive and well on one unexpected evening.”

“He said she has Laura’s scent,” Stiles said. “She didn’t have Alpha eyes, but it looked exactly like her. Derek said it was her.”

Deaton seemed to linger on that for a long second. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know what this is. But if I’m not allowed to do my own inspection, then you will have to be my eyes, Stiles.”

“Uh, what?”

“You need to keep an eye on Laura Hale,” Deaton said. “And report back to me.”

That sounded like a terrible idea. Stiles was pretty sure that _was_ a terrible idea. He remembered the look on Derek's face and the anger in his eyes when Stiles had voiced his thoughts and shivered. He could believe he was actually scared of the man. But if Derek found out—

“Derek Hale could be in trouble,” Deaton said. “Depending on what this new threat has come to Beacon Hills to accomplish.”

Stiles’s heart sunk. He knew without having to think about it what his answer was. He’d never abandon Derek, even if the man was currently a little murderous. 

“Okay,” Stiles said softly. “I’ll do it.”

Deaton smiled.

Stiles was pretty sure this was going to get him killed.


	3. Chapter 3

When Stiles showed up at the loft later that morning, he was more than a little nervous.

He didn’t really know what to expect. He didn’t even know if Derek would let him come in but he figured it was worth a try. Deaton’s warnings rang in his ears and Stiles was still pretty sure this was a terrible idea. But he poked his head into the loft anyway, glancing nervously around.

The betas were sitting around the TV like it was a normal day. Stiles didn’t see Laura or Derek anywhere, so he nervously slipped inside.

“Well, well,” Erica said, glancing up with a small smirk. “Stilinski, I’ll have you know Derek was in a pissy mood for the rest of the night last night after you left and we all blame you.”

Stiles supposed that seemed normal enough. He shrugged. “Thanks?”

“Oh, and by the way,” Isaac said. “His sister makes better pancakes than you do.”

It didn’t seem like the betas were nearly as fazed as Stiles was; not like they’d been yesterday. He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “Okay. So where are they, then? Derek and his sister.”

The betas glanced between each other. Boyd eyed him for a moment before answering. “Preserve.”

“... Like, the Hale house preserve?”

He nodded. Stiles’s stomach twisted and Deaton’s words rang through his ears;  _ Derek could be in trouble, depending on what this new threat has come to Beacon Hills to accomplish.  _ He glared at the betas. 

“And you guys just let him go?”

“It’s not like he can’t take care of himself,” Erica said, shrugging. “Anyway, it’s his sister.”

“Who has been dead for  two years.  Does nobody understand that? People don’t just come back to life with good intentions!”

“They can,” Isaac said. Stiles glared at him.

“Name one person.”

“Jesus.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, throwing up his hands. “I hate this pack!”

“I think you need to relax,” Erica said, snuggling further into Boyd’s side. “She didn’t try to kill him last night and yes, you pissed our mighty Alpha off, but I’m also pretty sure he’s never been less growly. And this morning he ate chocolate chip pancakes. Derek never eats chocolate chip pancakes.”

Stiles frowned at that. Even he couldn’t get Derek to eat his chocolate chip pancakes.

“Anyway,” Boyd said. “We'd know if something was wrong.”

“Oh right, yeah of course,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. He turned right back toward the loft door, because apparently he was the only one who cared that Derek didn't actually get himself killed. “I'm sure you'd all know. Well, while you’re all catching up on your Saturday morning cartoons, I’m going to go make sure Derek isn't doing anything stupid. Like he probably is.”

“You do that,” Isaac said with a small smirk. Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved out the door. 

He was determined to make sure nothing was wrong. He knew well enough why Derek and Laura would’ve gone out to the Hale house, but he also knew there were a lot of things that could go wrong there. That have gone wrong there. That was how Peter had come back to life the first time, after all. That was also where Peter had taken Laura’s Alpha status and Derek had later taken Peter’s.

There was nothing good to be found at the old Hale house. Not anymore.

When Stiles parked in front of the house, the Camaro was already there. He got out of Roscoe nervously, glancing around the empty clearing. Derek and Laura were nowhere in sight, which only left the Hale house.

Which Stiles really didn’t want to go wandering into.

But he did anyway, glancing nervously around. The walls were leaning at nervewracking angles and looked like they were three seconds from falling apart. There was glass littering the floor and none of the windows were intact anymore.

Stiles was pretty sure he knew the spot where Kate had been killed, judging from the bloodstains on the floor. He was also pretty sure he knew the spot where Peter had come to life, taking a long look at the literal hole in the floor.

Stiles shuddered and kept wandering around. He couldn’t help the twisting of his gut or the feeling of nervousness that fell heavily over his shoulders.

“Derek? Hey, big guy, you in here?”

Stiles yelped as suddenly, Derek was there. Coming out of one of the rooms with a raised eyebrow and his shoulders a little tense. But he relaxed a little when he saw Stiles and Stiles felt himself relaxing too.

Until Laura stepped at his side, that is.

The woman’s green eyes swept over him and Stiles fought the urge to curl in on himself. But the small smile tugging at Laura’s lips was nothing except friendly. He could easily lose himself to that; convince himself that nothing was wrong and maybe it was Derek’s sister.

Stiles shook that off. He wasn’t willing to throw away his other suspicions just yet.

“Stiles,” Derek said. “Why are you here?”

“The betas,” Stiles said, glancing around. “Uh, they said you’d be out here.”

“Okay. But why did you come?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, fixing his gaze back on Derek and rolling his eyes. “I’m glad to see you’re still being a grump, dude. Nothing ever good happens when you wander off to brood, Mr. Sourwolf. I came to make sure you weren’t getting all glum or something.” 

Stiles was surprised to hear Laura laugh. Derek’s face turned bright red, the color going all the way to the tips of his ears, and Stiles was more than intrigued about  that  development. Derek mumbled something that Stiles couldn’t catch underneath his breath and Laura laughed even harder.

“Okay, Der,” she said, shaking her head. “You didn’t say he was funny.”

“You talked about me?”

The words spilled out of Stiles’s mouth before he could stop them and Derek glowered even more. Laura stepped forward, offering out a hand, and Stiles didn’t even know what to do with that. He gazed at it for a second before meeting the woman’s gaze.

The light in her eyes looked real enough. She  looked  like Laura Hale. The same one Stiles had spent his entire last night looking into.

There wasn’t much about the Hale family online, but Stiles had found a few things. Nothing to prepare him for the actual Laura Hale standing only a few inches away, though. If that’s really what she was.

“You still don’t trust me,” Laura said, lowering her hand. Stiles knew better than to even attempt lying to a werewolf, even as Derek tensed up behind her.

“I’ve seen a lot of things happen in Beacon Hills,” Stiles said truthfully. “Resurrection is… fairly new. The last time someone came back to life, it was your uncle and well, Peter is a threat in himself. I think after all the things we’ve faced, I have the right to be wary.”

“As a matter of fact, I admire that,” Laura said, not even flinching at the mention of Peter. “I’d be a little disappointed if no one tried to question things.”

Stiles blinked. That wasn’t the answer he had been expecting.

“But I’ve heard you’re the clever one,” Laura said. “Derek had some fairly nice things to say.”

Stiles was pretty sure  that  was a lie. But Derek was turning bright red again, so Stiles wondered if maybe he had said some not-so-insulting things about Stiles for once in his life. His stomach tightened a little.

“Yeah, well,” Stiles said, shrugging. “I can be a real catch when I want to.”

That made Derek roll his eyes and Laura laugh again. Stiles finally shook her hand and he would’ve felt better if it was ice cold or something. Not warm, gripping his tight, and he could swear he felt a heartbeat where his fingers brushed over her pulse point.

“So, Stiles,” Laura said. “You’ve been to the Hale house before?”

Stiles glanced around and shuddered. He didn’t have any good memories of this place; all he could see when he looked at it was Peter Hale the night they’d set him on fire. Or the way the house had seemed twice as large and terrifying the night Allison had screamed when Peter ripped her aunt’s throat out.

Stiles hadn’t liked Kate. But that memory had haunted him for weeks afterward. That was one of the first times Stiles had started screaming himself awake. 

Unable to meet Derek’s eyes, he shrugged.

“I’ve been here a couple of times before. Never really ended well.”

“I hear you’re the one that dug up my body.”

Stiles winced at that. That wasn’t a great memory either. “Yeah, sorry about that. We were pretty sure your brother was a serial killer or something.”

Derek growled lightly. Stiles shot him a look and snorted.

“Relax, Sourwolf, I don’t think that anymore. Usually, at least. Though I heard you actually ate chocolate for breakfast this morning, so maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

The sound of Laura’s laughter was strange, but Stiles couldn’t help noticing how it made Derek’s whole body relax. He also didn’t miss the fond glance that Derek gave his sister, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

That made Stiles’s heart do a number of strange things that he really didn’t want to concentrate on. But he could’ve sworn Laura’s eyes sparked with interest as she studied his face. Quickly, Stiles tore his gaze away.

“Uh, the betas are still hoarding the TV back at the loft,” Stiles said. “But I promised my dad I’d bring him lunch today. Course, it’s got to be salad because he ate bacon this morning, but there’s a diner near the station that does a pretty good burger. If you two wanna… not be here.”

Stiles couldn’t help glancing around one more time as he said that. There was a splatter of something crimson near his foot. He nervously stepped away from it.

Laura’s eyes were soft as she studied him. Derek glanced at his sister, waiting, and Stiles wasn’t used to seeing Derek let someone else take charge. The woman nodded after a moment and Stiles felt relief crash over him.

If he had to keep an eye on Laura Hale, he’d rather do it far away from this place.

When the woman started past him, Stiles caught Derek’s arm before he could follow. The Alpha looked sharply back at him and a bit of red began to leak into his eyes, so Stiles quickly let go. He did step in the way of Derek’s exit, though.

“Stiles,” the man started lowly. “If you going to try and tell me I shouldn’t be trusting Laura again—”

“No,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “No, Derek, I’m not going to tell you that.”

Derek blinked at him. Stiles nervously wet his lips and glanced down at the floor. He didn’t want to lie to Derek. Dammit, he hated lying to Derek. But he still didn’t think the man should be trusting Laura; he didn’t think any of them should.

But right now, those were his suspicions to carry.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Stiles said quietly. “I’m here for you—”  _ not Laura.  _ “—and I should’ve been there for you last night too, Derek. I know… I know you need this.”

Derek’s face tightened. Stiles swallowed hard.

“I know you need this and I’m here for you. I’d like to get to know your sister better if that’s okay.”

Derek searched his face as if he was looking for the ‘but’ or the lie. But nothing Stiles had said hadn’t been true. A stretch of the truth, perhaps, or an omitting of certain things, but not a lie. Grey-green eyes cracked a little and Derek nodded.

“Thank you, Stiles.”

“Of course, dude. But if the rest of Beacon Hill’s cemetery starts coming back to life, I’m declaring ‘The Walking Dead’ and getting a spiked baseball bat or something.”

Derek's expression turned fond and he nudged Stiles's arm, starting past. Grinning a little, Stiles started after him.

Yeah, he didn’t really trust Laura. He didn’t think any of this was going to end well if he was being honest. But he hadn’t been lying. Derek needed this and Stiles was going to be there. Even if things went wrong.

A large part of him hoped more and more that they wouldn't.

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, starting another curse fic because I can't get enough of writing these. This one is going to be a little fluffy and a lot angsty... I apologize in advance. Of course, like always, I'd love to hear what you guys think!
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr?
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


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